Colum Tyrrell: The Hookers and Blow Show

A rude, crude but quite often good show from NYC-based Irishman

It can't be easy being heckled by a mouse. But sure enough, three quarters through Colum Tyrrell's fairly profane and highly opinionated set, a small rodent has had enough and sprints across the front of the stage, heading straight for its bolt-hole. The other audience members in the room (a Norwegian, a snuff-taking Dane and a reviewer: clearly the set-up to someone else's punchline) take this moment to draw breath as Tyrrell's flow is temporarily blocked: it seems he has no stock put-downs for rude interruptions by long-tailed tiny mammals.

To add to the cosmopolitan nature of this night, Tyrrell is an Irishman based in New York and most of his mainly sordid material comes from his time there. It would be a gross understatement (gross being the operative word) to say that his comedy is rough around the edges, but there's something about this late twentysomething that suggests a new Jim Jefferies in the making.

Sure, some might say that this is the last thing modern comedy needs, but if you enjoy stories about knife-wielding Thai prostitutes and the decreasing quality of a man's ejaculate while hearing exactly why hipsters could be the new Nazis, Colum Tyrrell is your man.